Into the Dark
by Shiba Akita
Summary: Harry loves Hermione, and has since first year. But by seventh, Ron's asked her out, and they haven't looked back since. Should Harry tell Hermione and risk destroying the trio's friendship, or stay silent and continue to suffer his unrequited love?
1. Emerald

"Harry, are you coming?"

Harry looked up with his mouth open, turning left and right. His heart was hammering against his chest; he'd been drenched in a deep sleep before he'd been woken so suddenly. The moment he saw a mane of wavy brown hair he smiled.

"Sorry Hermione, what?"

"Harry, we've got Transfiguration in twenty minutes and you've been sleeping by the fire."

She glanced down at the open book he'd been using as a pillow, smiling a little at the spot of drool in one corner.

"The Animagus Transformation? But Harry, we're on Inter-Genus Crossings; we don't start this until—"

"Oh, I know I know Hermione." He wiped some drool off his face, hoping his sleeve would cover the blush beginning on his cheeks. "This isn't for homework; it's for my own interest."

"Why, you aren't—"

"Well, I was sort of thinking of learning, y'know, I thought it sounded interesting." He saw she was frowning slightly. He pressed his sleeve harder against his face. "I mean it's really fascinating isn't it? Shapeshifting? Actually turning into your inner animal? I mean, my Patronus isn't my inner animal, right? That's my dad's; it's a reflection of him, not me. And—"

"I understand Harry." Hermione tucked one of her books tighter into her shoulder. "You better get ready quickly though. Ron and I have already finished breakfast and he had some of his own homework to catch up on. You've finished your paper, haven't you?"

"Oh, er, yeah I did." He sat up and stuffed his book into his bag. "Actually finished it a few nights ago. That's why I was working on—er—other stuff."

"I see." She smiled. He smiled back. "But Harry…" She gestured down at his chest. Harry felt the blush break out again, and prayed that he'd looked down fast enough to hide it from Hermione. His robes were rumpled and dusty, and covered in cat hair (Crookshanks had been sleeping on his lap the previous evening), and not to mention the larger portion of his drool.

He turned away to make for the boy's dormitory. As he headed up the stairs, Hermione called after him "Do you want me to wait for you? We've got to hurry or we'll be late."

"Uh, it's your choice. Guess I'll have to sit on an empty stomach till lunch. Haven't got time for breakfast have I?"

"Oh, don't worry about that." Hermione reached behind her. "I brought you some." She pulled a stack of toast from no where.

Harry grinned. "Thanks Hermione—you're the best!"

"I've been told. Now hurry!"

Harry nodded and dashed upstairs. His face was still burning.

_Why?_ He thought as he pulled off his robes. Why did he have to feel this way? They were friends for God's sakes—_friends_! And yet…

As he made to remove his pants, he felt a sudden hard stiffness. He resisted the urge to look down before putting on a new change of undergarments, loose ones. Even though the roomy material, he could make out the lump. Gritting his teeth, he looked away and hurried to put on a new pair of robes. They did the trick. He sighed and mopped his face. His cheeks were still burning. His penis slowly relaxed.

He walked towards the door and opened it.

"Uh Hermione?" he called. "I'm actually gonna be a bit late. You can go down without me. I don't want to make you late too."

"Alright, see you in class!"

He heard footsteps and scrambling around the portrait hole. He sighed sadly and finished getting changed. And trying to keep his thoughts on the Transfiguration homework he hadn't finished, or the Animagus Transformation, or Dobby's socks, anything but (_oh God no don't start thinking about her! Don't start thinking about her!_) he jammed on his hat, gathered all his books, papers and miscellaneous supplies together, scrambled through the portrait hole, and ran for the classroom so fast that he forgot to grab the toast Hermione had left for him on the table. By the time he made it to class with a minute to spare he was huffing and wheezing. Well, at least now he had a good reason for being red in the face.

Everyone was already assembled into their seats. The only available spot was beside Neville at the back of the room. Ron and Hermione were sitting in front of him. He tried to pay particularly close attentions to his books and quills as he pulled them from his bag.

"Hi Harry!"

"Hey Neville." Harry looked up to stare sideways, but caught sight of Ron and Hermione. They were sitting close to each other, snuggling and giggling happily as the rest of the class withdrew their things. Harry felt his face, so contrasting to earlier, drain of blood as he stared at the two. Now they were forehead-to-forehead, broad smiles across their lips. Harry immediately held up a book to hide his face, but they didn't notice, too engrossed in their public displays of affection.

At that moment Professor McGonagall entered the room. The class fell silent. Hermione and Ron were still locked by their foreheads.

"Granger, Weasley, though I understand that we are practicing Inter-Genus Crossings during this lesson, that does not involve performing them on one another."

Most of the class laughed. Hermione and Ron turned pink, but Professor McGonagall smiled too, showing she was not entirely upset with them.

Harry studied his Petrified bobcat and tried to focus on turning it into a lynx, but his mind (and not to mention his…er…_private_ parts) were racing with other thoughts.

He was _so _stupid. He'd known her for over six years; he'd known since he was eleven how he thought about her, and he'd had so much time. Why hadn't he told her how he felt? How come he hadn't mustered the courage before Ron meekly asked her out-two months earlier! He hung his head and toyed with the bobcat's paw. He leaned forward and zoomed in on its heavily spotted flank, trying to block out Ron and Hermione sidled next to each other, the latter correcting her forehead on his wand motions.

He sighed. If only he'd told her sooner…

** Hey everyone, Shiba here! For those reading my other fanfiction **_Waiting for You,_ **I am SO SO SO sorry it's late. Life's been getting in my way.**

** I'm writing this story based on the fact that I'm a huge Harry/ Hermione shipper. Don't get me wrong—I love Ron and Hermione as characters. I personally just don't feel they're a good match together. (R/ Hr Shippers, please don't flame me!) If any of you want me to elaborate on my opinions why, I'd be glad to explain, but I don't want to bore you before I know anybody wants them. Also, this is AU as this takes place during Seventh year and, of course, they weren't at Hogwarts then. While this fic won't go into huge details of what happened during the last two books, I'll add more to them as I go along. Until I explain what's changed, everything besides Harry's feelings for Hermione, that has happened up to the fifth book should be considered canon.**

** Also, I'm a girl, so I know I'm not the best at describing Harry's…er…excitement. If anyone wants to tell me how to make it sound more…convincing…that would be most appreciated.**

** Please review, and happy reading! **


	2. Amber

"Hey mate!"

Harry looked up. Ron was standing on the opposite side of the House table.

"Hey," he said, stuffing the book he'd been reading under the table. "What's up?

"What isn't up's more the question." Ron sat on the bench and reared in sevral dishes. "We gotta do that paper on Inter-Family Hybrids for McGonagall, and another on all the ingredients used in a Depressing Elixir and their properties, then make a timeline of the griffin's lifecycle. I mean," he started stuffing mashed potatoes into his mouth, "'ow oo dey tink 'e like ull 'is 'oh urk?"

"Come again?" Harry asked, pulling a steak off a dish and dowsing it with gravy.

Ron swallowed. "I mean, how do the teachers think we like getting all this extra homework?"

"I dunno. But I can't imagine them being much more chuffed about it than we are. They have to mark it all, they have to make sure of what's right and not. I wouldn't like OWLS or NEWTS much if I were a teacher; at least for us we only get them twice in our time here. They get them twice a year!"

"But really Harry, what 'oo 'tey spect?" (Ron had just shoveled in more potatoes)..He swallowed. "I mean really, we're kids—Okay, technically adults, but kids still at heart and in school! We don't enjoy work. We're not house-elves." Upon realizing his mistake, his eyes went wide and darted around the Great Hall. Then he leaned towards Harry and whispered, "Don't tell Hermione I said that."

Harry grinned. "I won't. Don't worry; your lazy slip-of-the-tongue metaphor is safe with me."

Ron smiled back. "Thanks mate. It's just…you know how Hermione can be. I mean she's a wonderful girl, but she takes herself too seriously sometimes. SPEW and homework and all. Aren't I right?"

Harry looked down at his steak and imagined Ron's face on it. He attacked it with his knife, slashing it at random spots again and again. He shrugged, trying to keep his shoulder steady. "I guess so. But it's her nature to throw herself into a project. She's committed to things she takes interest in."

"You could say that again." Ron sighed, his eyes misting over, and a vague smirk twisted on his lips, ignoring the bits of potato dribbling from his rot. "Can you believe it Harry? She and I've been going out for almost two months. It seems like only yesterday when first saw her on the Hogwarts Express. And to think, back then I wanted to chuck Scabbers at her. Ah, good times…"  
Harry looked down at his steak. It was completely shredded and looked as though it had just been attacked by giant birds. Then his stomach flipped; he wasn't sure if he could eat it.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Good times."

"Say, do you wanna shoot some hoops on the pitch? Charlie taught me some good broom maneuvers over the summer."

"But we've got loads of work tonight. You said so yourself!"

"Yeah, but we can always do that later. And anyway, we can always get Hermione to—hey Hermione!""

Harry spun his head round. Coming towards them, hair swirling about her shoulders, was the one and only.

Ron leapt to his feet, the misty look no longer in his eyes. Harry turned away just in time, but hearing the insanely loud smack of their lips made him cringe all the same.

"Sorry, been in the library," Hermione said, once she and Ron detached from each other's mouths. "What's for dinner? I'm starving."

"Loads of stuff," Ron said with a wink. "And maybe something special for dessert." Then they kissed again.

Harry cringed and gritted his teeth. That comment was the most over-used pickup line in existence. Hermione needed something cleverer than that.

"Hey, Hermione, you gonna come watch Harry and me practice Quidditch?"

'Right now? No, I've still got plenty of work to do. And you do too. Didn't you even look at the griffin lifecycle yet?"

"What? No, we just got out of Hagrid's ten minutes ago. Anyway, you've never watched me fly."

"Yes I have."

"Not as a couple." Ron winked and started for the door. "You coming Harry?"

"Er…" Harry looked at his plate and received the same twist in his stomach, then turned to Hermione and Ron. "Sure, you go on now and I'll meet you at the pitch in fifteen."

"Alright." And so Ron left the room.

"That boy." Hermione swung her head, bouncing her hair harder and harder. Harry gulped.

"So how're things going?" he asked as she took the seat next to him.

"Oh fine," she said, skewering a steak on her knife. :"Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, I guess I shouldn't say that…" She giggle in an un-Hermioneish way and dropped her steak. "It's just Ron's…on I can't explain it Harry, it's just _wonderful_." The same misty look that Harry had seen in Ron's eyes now glazed over hers. Harry pelted his steak with an extra slash.

"That's great Hermione, that's really great. Ron's a great guy. I'm happy for you." He forced on a smile. Hermione beamed.

"Thanks. It's not just that. Ron's amazing, but there's just…He's changed so much. He's studying more, he pays more attention to what I'm saying, and…well…" She giggled again.

Harry choked out a chuckle. He rarely saw Ron study, even these days. He generally hid a _Which Broomstick?_ Pamphlet into his school books, still copying notes off him and Hermione.

Hermione began eating, and Harry pretended to, watching her do so when she as she concentrated on her food, turning away when she brought her chin up to chew.

A jolt began between his legs. He turned red, though he knew his rising penis couldn't be seen through his loose robes. Trying to hide his face, he pulled his book out from under the table and jumped to his feet.

"I'll see you later," he told her. "Gonna get my broom and meet Ron on the field."

She nodded and returned to her food.

Harry strode down the hall. Every few yards he turned back to look at her. Each time he did, his heart twinged with pain.

_Why?_ He thought as he headed for Gryffindor Tower. Why did he have to feel this way?

He asked himself this question a dozen times a day. Every time summoned no answer.

Other than that he was scared. He, Harry Potter, had faced Basilisks, dragons, Skrewts, giant spiders, Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort himself on multiple occasions. He was known as the bravest teen around, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. Yet he couldn't tell Hermione how he felt about her. If he were a true Gryffindor, he could...no, he _would_. He would be brave and tell her, and stand tall even if she rejected him. But then again, a true Gryffindor might realize she was happy with Ron, and sacrifice his own desires in exchange for hers. Seeing her happy would make him content. Even so, he could not get rid of that desire.

At this, his dick rose higher. He ignored it. There was too much action spinning around in his own head to bother with any below.

Now he was at the Fat Lady's portrait. He told her the password ("Panthera Leo") and climbed into the Common Room. Only a few other students milled around the Common Room, all too focused on homework or Exploding Snap to notice him. Good, he ddin't need anymore distractions. He dropped into an armchair, pulled out his book, and continued reading about the Animagus Transformation.

He'd been studying this for over a year, ever since Sirius's death. His insides twisted, though not in the same way they did in Hermione's presence. The pain of losing his godfather was still there, as intense as it had been the day he had died. It was just easier to hide now.

He needed an escape from reality. He needed to find out who he truly was on the inside, what natural force buried itself inside his soul. When he was finished, what would he become? A stag like his father? A dog like Sirius? A phoenix; he'd love to fly of his own accords. A Gryffindor lion? He still wasn't sure.

It wouldn't take much longer now. Lupin and Sirius had told Harry much of what to do, which quickened the process. In a few weeks he should be ready to transform.

He read on, but soon his mind felt fuzzy and the written words blurred against his eyes. Yawning, he closed the book, slipped it into his bag, and headed for the dormitory. None of the other boys were there; it was still early. He flopped onto his bed and pulled out the curtains. After making sure they completely concealed him, he removed all his clothes.

He stared at the bed canopy, hands behind his head, thinking about Hermione.

She never left his thoughts. No matter what he was doing, if he was sitting in Privet Drive, eating a bowl of porridge, or dueling Voldemort, she was somewhere in his mind. Even in his sleep there was no escape; she always found a way into his dreams. Whatever he did, whatever method he used to drive her from his thoughts, she was always with him.

He sighed. At least now that he was alone, he could think of her how he wanted to, the way he always reserved for rare solitary occasions.

He closed his eyes. She appeared in his closed lids. Her smile, her bright eyes, her bushy hair curling down to her elbows. He thought of her naked, with her pale skin shining in the dark. Then she lay down, swinging her hips, her breasts, her smooth stomach. Her fingers twisted round some pubic hair in a suggestive style. Then she dug her thumb inside…

She began gasping, thrusting her pelvis up and down. It went and on. Breath in, breath out. Finger: in out in out. Then she let out a howl like a heated cat.

Harry grunted, fiddling with his erection. He grunted and groaned, his eyes squeezed shut. He barely felt his seed spill through his fingers. Watching Hermione swing about and pleasuring herself was all that mattered.

After what felt like forever, the image faded. He opened his eyes and sprang to his feet. He was still alone in the room. He cleaned himself up, put on his pajamas, and curled under the covers. Though it was still early, he felt exhausted.

He closed his eyes, wondering if what Ron would think if he's seen what he, Harry, had just done.

**Ah, the pain of unrequited love.**

**Hey guys, hope you're enjoying this. Sorry if it seems really inappropriate, but hey, there an M rating for a reason!**

**Here's a little game: I'm a huge **_A Clockwork Orange fan_**, and there's a tiny reference to it somewhere in the chapter. The first person to find it will have their name (user or real, whichever is preferred) put into the next chapter.**

**I've updated this chapter. Nothing major, just fixed some grammar and sentences that were incorrect. Sorry; I originally wrote this chapter in a hurry.**

**Also, I've been told that I am confusing normal human affection for sexual pleasure. I will update my response to that in the next chapter, but trust me, I know what's happening. **

**Happy reading, and don't forget to review and play!**


	3. Tawny

"And Harry Potter catches the Snitch! GRYFFINDOR WINS! GRYFFINDOR WINS 190 TO 30!"

Harry punched the air with the fist still clutching the little winged ball. He soared back down to earth as the stadium erupted into applause. His teammates swooped down beside him, slapping him on the back. They whooped and hollered along with the rest. Jimmie yelped after Ritchie hit him round the head with his Beater's bat accidentally (both had been swinging them around in celebration). Palm after palm slapped him on the back, hand after hand clenched over his shoulder. Voice after voice roared in his ear in celebration of winning.

He glanced around, his lips taut in a grin, his hand still grasping the Snitch, hardly able to breath from all the excitement. He saw Malfoy yell at and punch a young Slytherin Chaser (she'd been about two inches from the Snitch when Harry swooped in for the kill). There was Luna in the stands, tapping her Lion Hat over and over again, though its roar was muffled by that of the crowd. Neville was beside her, grasping her hand so he could pick himself up. But as hard as Harry looked, squinting through his glasses, he did not see Hermione. His grin slid slightly; had she even come to the match at all? Why wouldn't she be there to watch him?

Ron came walking towards him, broomstick over his shoulder. His face was as red as his hair, which itself was damp with sweat, and his Quidditch robes were torn on the chest, but he was grinning with the rest.

"Great catch Harry!"

"Thanks. Those were some brilliant saves there too. Never seen you do the Starfish and Stick before, that was awesome."

"Yeah well," said Ron, looking a little to Harry's right, "I had a little help perfecting that move."

Harry looked at where Ron was. His heart bounced against his ribs and he felt his grin return. Hermione was their, her hair a streak of tawny as she ran towards them.

"YOU WERE AMAZING!"

And before Harry could say his thanks, she leapt into Ron's arms and kissed him. There was a thud of the Cleansweep Eleven falling to the ground, but Ron did not notice. His eyes closed when Hermione jumped into his arms, as they locked lips more fiercely than any time before. Harry could feel his smile falter again, though he managed to turn it into a smug sort of smile before Ron and Hermione unlocked and opened their eyes.

"You were amazing—both of you!"

And before Harry knew it, Hermione was hugging him too.

He didn't know what to do. His partying heart was telling her to squeeze her back, to kiss her, to whisper the words he'd been wanting to say for years. And in that excitement, encouraged by Hermione's warm skin, the tickle of her hair on his cheek, the softness of hers tucked under his chin, he wanted to tell her. But before he could do anything stupid, his brain interfered, telling him any move on her would be stupid. This was a friendly hug, a sign of congratulations. Any move would be uncalled for. So he hugged her back, squeezing her a little, hopefully giving her the signal that he was happy as well to win the game.

They slowly pulled apart. Behind her, Harry saw Ron grinning, though his eyes narrowed until he and Hermione had completely separated. Ron didn't seem that concerned about watching his best friend kiss his girl, though there was definitely a protective gleam in that flash. _Watch your step, Harry,_ it seemed to say.

"We'll meet you up in the Common Room in a bit Harry," Hermione said, beaming. "For the after-party. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright," Harry said, his voice feeling a million miles away. "See you then."

His fist gave way, and the Snitch fluttered off.

He watched her and Ron walk away, their arms crossed over each other's shoulders. The sight of them so close called up the bitterness in his, though not as fiercely as usual, as though he'd managed to clean out that old wound a bit. He set off towards the changing room, his steps faltering so much that he could hardly stand.

She had hugged him. Hermione Granger, the kindest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world, had actually hugged him. Of course, she had before, but never like that. Never in that gleeful, instinctive rush kind of way. Not since she'd started going out with Ron...

"It was friendly," he told himself as he opened the changing room doors. Nobody else was in; apparently, they were all still celebrating the win on the pitch. He made for his stall and started to change. "It was friendly, that was all. Just excitement from winning the first game this year."

As he pulled his red robes off, his elbows grazed his cheek. He shivered; it was the one Hermione's had touched, the one she had kissed at the end of fourth year. He sighed, but then growled and shook his head. Why did he keep torturing himself like this?

Trying to push thoughts of his two best friends out of his brain, he bared his teeth and went on changing, before storming out of the room and up to the castle.

The party upstairs was already well in action when he reached the Gryffindor common room. _The Weird Sisters_ music was blaring from a radio, and the room was swamped by lionesque banners and red-and-gold streamers and balloons. People were whooping, some dancing with the music, others downing sweets and Butterbeers. Harry smiled; it seemed like such an overblown party for only the first game of the year, but it made sense. He knew it was for him, as it would be his last year playing on the team, not to mention possibly his last win (though it wouldn't be if he could help it!).

"Hey Harry!" Ron's voice called. Harry spun round a bit, unable to make out his friend through all the red. But there he was, sitting close to the fire with Neville, Seamus, and Dean and Ginny, who were glued by their rots.

"Some party eh?" Ron asked as Harry came over. Harry noticed him scowl as he watched Dean and his sister pucker, then try to block them from his range of vision.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, sitting down and pulling a treacle tart towards himself. "That was an awesome game."

"Sure was," said Ron, who laughed, though it came out raspy, as though it were a bit forced. He lowered his head and urged with his finger for Harry to do the same, so no one else could hear him.

"Listen Harry, is something wrong?"

Harry repressed a gulp.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean earlier. Look, I know I'm not a Seeker and I'm not Captain or anything, but I noticed the Snitch a few times during the game. I even saw it right by that Slytherin Chaser a minute before you won the game. And when I made to look at you a couple of times during the game, you seemed to be just drifting in midair. You were looking at the crowds for a lot of the game, actually more than at the pitch. Is something up?"

"Uh," said Harry. What could he say? How could he tell Ron that, for every minute he'd spent tracking the Snitch, he'd spent countless others looking for a familiar face, hoping it was cheering him on. How could he say he'd been looking for Hermione without Ron punching him in the privates? He stuck the tart into his mouth and swallowed it whole before answering.

"I dunno, I just…just haven't been at my best lately. Don't really know why."

"Alright," Ron mumbled, easing back into his seat. "But I'm stupid you know. We're mates, mate, we can talk."

Harry grinned and nodded.

"That was quite a game Harry," said Hermione's voice. Harry felt his neck burn as she came into view, clutching a book under her arm.

"Thanks," he said as she settled herself on Ron's lap. She fondled his neck for a minute and kissed his jaw before opening the book and drowning herself in it.

Ron sighed. "Hermione, this is a party! Why on earth are you reading?"

"Because Ron," she said without looking up. "We have a Defense Against the

Dark Arts test in two weeks, and the game got in the way of studying. So that's what I'm doing now."

"Oh, c'mon Hermione, lighten up."

Ron tried to kiss her, but she pushed his face away, playfully at first, until Ron's attempts to settle her became so rough and persistent that she thrust her book into his face and leapt to her feet.

"Honestly," she huffed, drawing the book up to her chest. "Sometimes Ron it's like I'm dealing with a three-year-old." She exchanged a quick look with Harry (who prayed that his face wasn't red; he could feel the burn on his cheeks now) and hurriedly marched up to her dormitory.

"What?" Ron asked in an exasperated tone. "What did I do?"

"What didn't you do?" snapped Ginny, who'd pulled herself off Dean for a moment to goggle at her brother, before continuing to mouth-wrestle. Ron made a rude hand gesture behind her head before turning back to Harry.

"I think I'm gonna head up to sleep. No point being out here without Hermione."

"Alright. Night."

Ron headed up to bed, and over the course of an hour, so did the rest of the Gryffindor. All that was left by the fire was Harry and a song by _The Weird Sisters_ that he knew now, as it kept replaying itself, was called "The Witch with the Coal-Black Eyes":

_"And though it's been a hundred years, I'll remember till I die,_

_ That girl I met in Diagon, the witch with the coal-black eyes."_

Yawning, Harry looked out the window. The night was inky dark, illuminated by a glistening full moon. He smiled sadly as he thought of Lupin, all on his own now as he struggled in werewolf form. (According to him, now that he was no longer in the company of a thousand students, Professor Snape refused to brew him the Wolfsbane Potion, and he couldn't get it anywhere else,) Harry wondered how Lupin was doing now; probably out of his mind and skin, howling, picking at his own hairy flesh to suffocate the killer's urge. No Sirius to help him now…

Harry leapt to him feet and flew up the stairs to his dormitory. He yanked the Invisibility Cloak out from under his bed, whispering apologies to the other boys he woke up in his haste, and then flew back down again. Tossing the Cloak over himself, he hurried out of the common room and down through the castle. He didn't rest until he was through the oak front doors and sniffing fresh night air.

_I'll do it tonight_, he told himself as he walked down tonight. _I'm ready._

He was ready for it now, to perform the Animagus spell. He's finished it a week ago, but with all his studies and practice needing for the game, he hadn't been able to. But tonight he'd needed an escape. Tonight he would transform.

As he didn't know what animal he would be (Lupin and the books said you couldn't until you actually changed) he made his way towards the bank between the Great Lake and the Forbidden Forest. That way, if he was a fish or a frog or something, he could dive straight into the water, and if he became something with fur or feathers, he could dash into the Forest or sore the sky without any issues.

By the bank, there were a number of trees, one of which had a hollow halfway up its trunk. After shedding the Cloak, Harry bundled it up and thrust it inside for safe keeping. Then he crouched onto all fours and closed his eyes and concentrated, as the books instructed, on transforming. He imagined fur poking through his skin, of his mouth pushing out into a beak, of—

There was a great rush through his body, a few pulses of pain, and then it was over. He felt different alright, bigger and heavier, and the slight breeze carried a thousand smells.

He opened his eyes, and then blinked them rapidly. His sight was amazing; he could make out the individual bricks on the castle's side and count each wooden splinter in the door. He saw little black specks—fleas and flies—nipping in the grass, which itself was damp and brilliant emerald. And turning around on all fours, he saw every detail of the Forbidden Forest, which didn't look as menacing as it usually did. On the contrary, the perfume of pines seemed to be welcoming him in.

Harry grunted and looked at his hand. Or what had been his hand; it was now a great tawny paw, complete with pads and claws. They were retractable too; he flexed his wrist, watching in fascination as the razors slid in and out above his toes.

He glanced back at the Forest, which looked so tempting, but then looked away. How could he go in before knowing what animal he was? What was he, with these brilliant eye, this sharp nose, and even sharper claws? He stepped towards the Lake and stared at his reflection, seeing the bottom of the water through a large tawny, rippling cat.

Here he laughed out loud, though it sounded more like a grunt. He was a cougar.

And grinning (he felt the large teeth against his lips) he turned on his heels—all four of them) and dashed into the Forest, greeting the dark.

**Hey everyone Shiba here. Hope you're enjoying this.**

** I got a review from Iffi about how I was mistaking Harry's "love" for nothing but sexual attraction. And I'm glad this person brought it up (Iffi, I'd have emailed you back, but there's none available). So here's how it works.**

**I'm not trying to make this fanfic sound erotic. Actually, just after I uploaded the second chapter, I thought,** "Oh shit. I'm taking this too far. I'm not trying to make this a lust story (at least, not formally), but it sounds like I'm making Harry a psycho pervert."** So I'm aware of where that mindset comes from.**

**1) I am not, in any way, shape or form, trying to make Harry/ Hermione look like a perfect couple. As much as I support the shipping, I don't think it's perfect; no relationship is, I just think it works better than Ron and Hermione, and prefer it. I'm trying to keep this fic, like the novels, from Harry's point of view, and trying to show things how he seems them without going into first-person perspective, so it may seem to sound like "true love" but trust me, there's more to it than that.**

**2) In this fic, as explained in this chapter, Harry's felt this way about Hermione since first year. And while he definitely felt for her in a sexual way for awhile, it's practically consumed him since she started dating Ron. He's feeling upset, angry, jealous, confused, regretful…a lot of emotions you feel when you care for someone, whether they return the feelings or not. He's been oppressed, and been expressing his "feeling" more and more often. Right now, this is the only way he can.**

**And now I'm confusing a bit more on the Animagus stuff, but not too much. Don't worry, there's still plenty of the Harry-Hermione-Ron triangle stuff to come up.**

**Well, until next time, happy reading. Hope you enjoy, and please review!**


	4. Silver

"Sycamore Swine."

"I would think so." the Fat Lady said before opening. Harry grunted and shook his head before crawling through the portrait hole. He was tired: the classes had all been long and difficult as it was N.E.W.T year, there'd been a Quidditch practice afterwards, then a meeting with Dumbledore, and to take his mind off things, he had spent the evening in cougar-form. Half- blinded by sleepiness, all he wanted to do now was go to bed. But just as he as about to make for the dormitory, he realized he hadn't done any homework, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts test was tomorrow. Groaning, he went upstairs to collect his books and came back downstairs.

But just as he made to sit down, he yelped. Hermione was coiled in the seat beside, asleep.

"Wha—oh!" She shot her eyes open when Harry yelped, her breaths heavy before she calmed down. "Oh, it's you Harry. I must've fallen asleep. What time is it?"

"Half past three," Harry replied, pushing his wrist towards her so she could examine his watch. "And I've still got work to do," he said, nudging with his other hand at his books. "I don't understand any of this." now whipping through the pages of his Charms text. "I mean, what's this Fire-Chucking spell useful for? And the Enhancement Charm and all that?"

"It's like this," Hermione yawned, looming over the book (some of her hair tumbled into Harry's face. He reluctantly pulled away). "See, it says right here. _The Fire-Chuck Spell (incantation _Fir tangre_) allows the user to conjure white flames that they may touch with their bare hands, but will still hurt anyone else who touches it. Therefore, this spell is ideal in combat as…_"

She went on and on. Harry scribbled down what she was saying. But while part of his mind was concentrating on trailing his quill after her speech, and another part was thinking about her, the most dominant thought was of his adventure. It had been two weeks since he'd transformed for the first time, and he had done it several times since. He still couldn't get over what it was like to be a cougar. His body laced with muscles and fur, his whiskers tickling whenever they brushed something, that long ruddery tail that kept him balanced when he ran on his paws…those paws with their thick pads that made no sound. Smelling and hearing everything within miles, seeing through the mossy darkness as though it were drowned in sun light. He couldn't really desribe the sensation of being in another body; you had to be there. But using only one definitive word, he would have to describe the whole thing as: _wonderful_.

And there was something even better. His thoughts weren't as coherent. Not to say he lost his mind when he transformed, but it was as though he was ridding himself of mundane things. As Sirius had once described, his thoughts weren't as complex once furry. Worries about school and friendship, hell, even Voldemort, were smothered by the cougar's cunning and solitary nature. What need did a feline have for friends or work other than hunting? And fortunately, the cougar had no need for romance; it didn't care about Hermione, and Harry could finally relax once he took its shape.

"…_and while similar enchantments can produce similar results, only the Concealment Charm can truly clear flesh of blemishes. _So there you." Hermione said, looking up with a tired smile. She closed the book and looked satisfied at Harry's four completed feet of parchment. "And I suppose you're all ready for the test tomorrow without any study? You practically breathe Defense."

"I sure do," Harry replied, getting up and yawning. "Thanks for your help Hermione. You're a lifesaver."

"Anytime," she said. Before he's walked five steps though, she called his name. Harry turned around.  
"Um…" She was blushing. Harry felt one bloom on his neck and that annoying twitch between his legs. _Oh God not now_, he thought, adjusting his robes as nonchalantly as he could. "Um, I was wondering Harry, if you could help me with the practical part. See, I—I'm—I'm not good at Patronuses, and seeing as you're the expert."

'Ah, say no more." Harry walked towards her and drew his wand from his pocket. "See, I know it's tricky, but definitely easier here than around a bunch of Dementors."

He walked her through the spell. She caught on very quickly. And at the end of another hour, his silver stag and her shining otter were gamboling around the room. They laughed at the sight, then sighed in satisfied ways as the two animals dissolved.

"Thank you so much Harry." Hermione said as she sat up. Her eyes were wet with sleep, but she didn't brush them, instead assembling her books under her arm. "And I'm sorry for keeping you up so late."

'It's alright. We both have what we need now." But as Harry was once again starting for the dormitory, he paused. A sudden question was pulsing in his brain. 'Say Hermione, why are you up so late finishing homework? You're usually so good about having it all done early."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking a bit flustered. 'Um…this sounds so stupid. I know it is…"

"C'mon, spit it out."

"I was helping Ron with his work too. Actually," there was now a sudden bitter tone in her voice "I _did_ all of his. I tried to tutor him as always, but he got frustrated, telling me he couldn't get it and was too sore from Quidditch practice. And then we…we sort of had a row."

"A row? 'Bout what?"

"About things. Mostly our relationship and the troubles we were having. Nothing serious, just all the studying and his flying and that we were so irritated. And then we decided to break up."

Harry stared at her with his mouth open. When he recovered his senses he said "Really? Ah, I'm so sorry…"

"It's alright. Actually, I broke up with him. We're not angry at each other; we're alright, still friends and all. We just came to the conclusion that we're better off as mates than…well, as _mates_."

"Alright, gotcha," Harry said with a wink. "And I really am sorry. If there's anything I can do for you or Ron, just let me know."

"Thanks. And I will." Hermione now made for her own room. "Night and good luck on your test."

"You too!" Harry called after her, and now finally set off for his bed. The steps seemed steeper than usual.

When he reached the dormitory, Harry noticed that only three beds had hung curtains. The two empty ones were his (obviously) and the one right beside. Harry frowned. Where was Ron? Head string wrung with sleep however, he merely dropped his books atop his trunk, changed into pajamas and burrowed under the sheets. But now that he was in bed, he found that he could not sleep. As tired as he physically felt, his mind was whirring with thoughts, preventing him form drifting off.

Hadn't Hermione be able to produce a proper Patronus during the days of the DA? Why was she suddenly having so much trouble? Had she not practiced since? Albeit, it was a tricky charm. But still...

Why had Ron and Hermione so suddenly called off their relationship? They got along well…well actually not really. Mostly they kissed and cooed. Whenever intelligent conversation came up, like when Hermione was battling Ron off her homework a fortnight ago, all they did was bicker, which was all they had done when they'd just been friends. As good of friends as they were too him, Harry didn't see them as a good match, and not just because he wanted to curse Ron whenever he saw they lock lips. They just constantly acted like an old married couple—and not in a good way. Their personalities clashed so violently, that any sort of true, passionate entwinement was absurd.

The lump between Harry's legs twitched again.

But was he even a better match for Hermione? The lump relaxed.

Sure, he was smarter than Ron, more emotionally sensitive than him and a harder studier, but by how much? If Ron buggered Hermione so much that she broke up with him after less than four months together, how much better could she tolerate Harry?

Then another thought entered his mind, one that almost caused his penis to tie itself into knots. Had he caused the breakup? Had Ron seen something deeper in his friend's hug? Or was it at all possible that Hermione…his penis untied itself and fired into the air at the idea.

_That's rubbish_, he thought to it. _She doesn't love me as anything but a friend. And even if she did, I'm not the guy for her_…

One last thought: if she had been so upset over doing Ron's homework, how come she'd done his?

"Not even some vapor? A few wisps?" Professor Flitwick whined.

"I'm trying!" Parvati wailed, swishing her wand violently about. "I just can't." They were in Charms class now, having finished their tests ten minutes earlier. Now they had the practical part, which was both simple and complicated: produce a Patronus. Flitwick was eyeing around the room, pointing at different people to demonstrate. Not one wand emitted more than smoke.

"Very well Miss Patel. I understand. Now who's next…ah, Miss Granger!"

Hermione jutted Harry with her elbow. He yelped and she apologized. Blushing, and trying not to look at Ron (who was sitting at the other side of the room beside Dean and Seamus) she gripped her wand tightly and said "_Expecto patronum_!" The vaguest otter head peaked out from the tip then vanished as swiftly. "Ooohh…" she moaned.

"Now now Miss Granger, that was quiet good. Quiet good indeed." Professor Flitwick coughed and glanced around the room. "Now Mr. Longbottom?"

This continued for a quarter hour. In that time nothing was as impressive as Hermione's attempt. Now Flitwick was practically tearing. "Is there anyone that can produce a corporeal Patronus?"

Every head turned to Harry and pointed at him.

"Alright Mr. Potter. I'm sorry, I completely forgot the stories I'd heard. Let's see what you've got!"

Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione, who smiled encouraging at him. Confident that this would impress, he said, "_Expecto patronum!_"

A silver creature burst from his wand. People clapped and cheered. Professor Flitwick fell off his cushioned chair in excitement. But several members of the DA and Ron and Hermione, people who knew his Patronus well, stared at it in shock. Harry did too. His Patronus wasn't a stag now. It wasn't even a cougar.

A shining silver otter was romping around on the floor.

**Dun dun **_**dun**_

**Hey guys. Again, sorry for the late reply. I'll try to have the next chapter up within the next three weeks. **

**As always happy reading, and don't forget to review!**


	5. Scarlet

Harry didn't know how Hermione reacted. He couldn't look at her. All he knew that, judging by the burn on his skin, his face must've been bright red. Too embarrassed, he spent the rest of the class (which, thankfully, was only a few minutes) staring at his desk, unable to look at anyone. When the bell rung to signal the end of the class, he heard Hermione whisper, "Harry?" But his only response was to gather all his books and scurry out of the room.

He didn't care that there were three more classes that day. He didn't think about the Transfiguration test in two days he's barely studied for. All he knew was that he had to get away. Harry rushed out of the school. He didn't see anyone on the grounds apart from Hagrid walking towards the castle with a dead polecat hanging over his shoulder.

"All righ' Harr—?"

"Sorry Hagrid!" Harry blurted as he ran by. He didn't see or hear Hagrid's response, if he indeed had responded at all.

Harry continued to run and didn't stop until he reached the mouth of the Forbidden Forest. Once there, he stuffed his books and bag under an oak's overgrown roots, then dashed further in. Once quite sure that no one could see him, he crouched down on all fours and with a _pop_ became a cougar.

Immediately he felt himself begin to calm down. Everything was okay. Now to walk around, sniff out the animals; maybe catch a rabbit for dinner. _Yeah_, Harry thought, _that sounds good_. And so for some time, Harry roamed the forest, sniffing the vegetation and indeed caught a rabbit, though he felt so bad for the thing squirming between his teeth that he let it go. He'd get meat later, cooked meat, in the Great Hall…the Great Hall in which Hermione also ate…

Heart and tail suddenly heavy, Harry clambered up the nearest tree and lay down on one of its thicker branches. From ten feet up, he could see much of the Forest. Here, he felt safe and calm, looking down at his territory. Hermione on the other hand—or paw—was another matter.

How had that happened? How had his Patronus changed so spontaneously? God, it didn't seem possible. Sure, Patronuses could change, but so suddenly? He had loved Hermione for years; why had it chosen just today to be an otter? Were the things sapient? Was it possible that, unconsciously, he had hoped for it to change, or his thoughts manifested to think of her rather than his father? He didn't know. Under normal circumstances, he would've asked Hermione for her opinion, but, obviously, he couldn't this time.

And did she even know what it meant? She had too; she had wanted to talk to him before he raced out of class. But maybe she didn't Maybe she thought he was tired after getting so little sleep last night, and his odd Patronus had been the result of such. No, no, that thought was stupid. Hermione was smart; she'd know something was up.

"Harry?"

Harry brought his head up at the sudden call. It was loud even by human stands, and high with worry. And then he smelled her.

"Harry, where are you? I want to talk to you."

Below, Harry could see Hermione walk by, her hair and robes covered in debris. He watched her pass, his cougar heart beating slow as it naturally did, but his blood strangely hot. She couldn't see him through all the leaves surrounding him, but he saw he as clearly as if she had a spotlight on her, and wasn't worried of losing sight of her. She shouldn't be in here. Sure, she was cleverer and more resourceful as anyone thrice her age, but even so, they both knew what lived in the Forest, and they weren't things even the smartest warlocks could overpower without great effort.

A silver-blue something rushed under the tree. Harry stared at it; it didn't have a scent. But it looked so solid, so animal-like. Then it raised itself and leaned against the tree, looking up at him, and barked. He saw its smoky body, and its wolfhound's head. Was it a dog, or a dog's ghost? But as it got back down to all fours and padded deeper into the Forest, Harry remembered the pictures from DADA classes and his heart rate sped up. It was a gytrash—a smoky, spectral dog that hunted after people. And it was heading straight for—

"Hermione!" Harry cried, though it came out sounding nothing like the word. Ahead he saw Hermione looking back and around; evidently, she had heard the Gytrash bark, then she screamed as the thing jumped on her. She cried out in pain as the Gytrash's jaws clamped round arm and pulled. She tried to beat it with her bag, but the bag passed through its translucent body. Blood seeped under her sleeve.

Wasting no time, Harry jumped off the tree and ran towards them. Hermione shrieked at him, but Harry leapt from the side, shoving the dog sideways, away form Hermione. He felt only the slightest weight from its body—it really must have been nothing but light—but then it reared. The Gytrash was taller than him, baring the silhouettes of its teeth over his head, and lunged at him. Harry felt its teeth alright, and its hot, airy breath, as it grabbed the skin between shoulder and collar. He clawed at it, but his paw passed straight through the creature's chest as if it weren't even there. How did this animal's anatomy work?

"_Lumos!_" a girl's voice cried, and the surroundings were suddenly full of light. The dog started to fade. Yelping, it let go of Harry and ran away, tail between its disappearing legs. Harry watched it go, panting, then turned to Hermione with her enlightened wand raised. There were bite-marks on her arm, but they didn't look nearly as eerie as her eyes, which were wide. Harry could see the spaces between the balls and the sockets.

"Wha—who—wha—huh?" She couldn't get out any more.

Heart still pounding, knowing what he'd have to do anyway, Harry turned back into himself. Hermione's knees buckled, but she still kept her wand warily on him.

"Huh-Harry? What are you..?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm an Animagus, just like I told you. I can become a cougar at will."

"But Harry—my God! That's illegal! But-but, what happened?"

"Just what you saw," Harry said with a slight smile. "I'll explain later. But we better get back to the castle." He sniffed, knowing he couldn't smell that well in his normal body. "But there're other things around, worse than that dog. And you can't smell Gytrashs anyway; they're just light." He turned back into the large tawny cat. Hermione's eyes widened again, though they relaxed as she took in his face. Harry knew she was comforted by the lighting bolt mark between his ears and the round markings around his eyes, the only features he retained when morphed.

They walked out together, not talking obviously. They say nothing more than the rabbit Harry had caught earlier, so escaped the Forest unscathed, save for the foliage caught on Hermione which, once out of the Forest, she brushed away with a wave of her wand. Here, Harry turned back into a boy, and they went for their class, which was Herbology.

The day passed without them saying anything to each other, nor to Ron, even though the three of them catered to the same Foxbush in the greenhouse. Even by midnight, when they were in the common room studying for Transfiguration, they said nothing other than the odd test-related question. An hour later, once the rest of the room was deserted, Ron got up and yawned. He leaned towards Hermione with his mouth puckered, but then backed up, his face now magenta. Apparently, for a moment, he had forgotten that he and Hermione weren't' together anymore. With an embarrassed "Goodnight," he walked up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Now Harry's stomach flipped a few times over. He and Hermione were alone. He stood up to retreat to bed as well, but just as he started to walk away, Hermione closed her book

"Harry, I'd really like to talk to you."

Harry paused. "Oh. Okay." And he sat back down in the armchair.

"Today, in Charms, what was up with your Patronus? Is there something you want to talk about?"

Harry looked away from her, then cursed. His inability to look at her right now had to be an omen to her. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why your Patronus looked like mine."

Harry sighed then looked at her. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were wide and moist, the most beautiful shade of golden brown he'd ever seen. He blinked and looked at the ground.

"Hermione, the truth is…God. I don't—I can't say it."

"Tell me, please. I promise I won't get mad."

And by her sad smile, which displayed dimples, Harry knew she was telling the truth.

"Hermione, I, I….love you." His face now felt damp with sweat. "I've loved you as long as I've known you, since we became friends after the troll incident in first year. I love you in a way I've never loved anyone and I've never told you before now. Not in a brother-sister way, but in…_that _way, y'know?" His head now felt heavy, weighed down with his brain and sweat. He swung it a bit to look at Hermione's shoes. "Well, how do you feel, now that you know?"  
"I, I don't know." Hermione said. Harry blinked. "I'm sorry Harry, but I really don't know. I love you; I have as long as we've been friends, but not that way. And after what just happened with Ron, I'm not that chuffed about getting into another relationship so quickly."

Harry saw her shoes straighten, and looked up to see her standing now. She moved towards him and grasped his shoulder, then ran her hand softly through his hair. His spine tingled. "I have to think about this Harry. I'm so sorry." And she walked towards the other set of stairs and climbed them out of sight.

Harry sat there, staring directly down at the carpet again, and let the tears run. No one was here to see him. His brain was heavy with thoughts, none of them good, Hermione didn't love him. If she had, she wouldn't have hesitated; she wouldn't have to think about him. Ron, she'd gone to right after he asked without hesitant. Even if that hadn't lasted, she still had passion for him. But not him, Harry. She didn't love him, at least not the way he loved her, and now she probably didn't love him as a friend. It would be awkward now, the three of them hanging out, caught in some thin, spiderwebbed triangle of broken and unrequited love. He sighed. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, all those losses were great and painful, but now, losing Hermione, stung at him as much as any of them.

**Fuck. Sorry again guys about the late entry. The next chapter's gonna be the last one, and I honestly don't know when I'll put it up. I'd like to say soon, but exams are coming up, and if you've been following my stories, well, I won't make any promises.**

**Also, Gytrashes…yeah. I know it's weird, but I used to play the HP video games and they were always in them; you got rid of them by Lumos. Sorry if that sounded weird.**

**Again, sorry for the late update and please enjoy. And if you can, review!**


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